


Not-A-Date Night

by Basmathgirl



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Birthday Presents, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Donna is stood up on a date by Shaun, the Doctor feels an urgent need to rescue her from a lonely restaurant table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not-A-Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** the full request is [HERE](http://some-thrilling-heroics.tumblr.com/post/126288985686/ndnickerson-danger-days-of-our-lives)  
>  **Disclaimer:** erm... what do I own here? I know! I have a debit card.;)  
>  **A/N:** specially posted today in order to wish [some-thrilling-heroics](some-thrilling-heroic.tumblr.com) a very happy birthday!! Sorry you had to wait so long for it, but I hope this has the amount of fluff you wanted, love! :)

“Come this way, madam. I’ll direct your guest to you as soon as he arrives,” the restaurant hostess pleasantly assured Donna as she led the way through the room and to her booked table for two.

Yeah, this was just what she needed right now! _Finally_ someone had asked her out, and he goes and does a no-show on her; so far. Sighing, she pulled out a chair at her assigned table so that she could watch the main entrance for any sign of intelligent life. Donna then pleasantly told the hostess, “I’ll have a glass of house white while I wait, please.”

“Certainly, madam,” the hostess complied, and handed one of the two menus she held in her hands. “Your waitress for this evening is Sarah, and she’ll be right over.”

Several faces turned in her direction, and Donna could see them idly noting that she was sitting all by herself at a table set for two. Well, let ‘em look if they wanted to! Nobody was going to get the better of Donna Noble, even if it meant sitting there eating dinner all on her own. Hah! 

The assigned waitress soon arrived with a glass of chilled white wine and cheerily placed it on the table. “Hello! Do you want me to give you a while longer to look at the menu as you wait for your friend to arrive?”

By now it was ten past seven, and Donna had already waited over half an hour for him to turn up. Sod him! “No, I’ll order for myself now, if that’s alright. I’ll have the garlic chicken.” That’d serve him right when he turned up! If he turned up, she mentally corrected. 

“Do you want us to wait before bringing it over?” Sarah the waitress queried, trying to keep the cheery note in her voice. If anyone had been stood up, this poor woman had. 

“No, bring it as soon as you can, please,” Donna decided. “Let him wait for his to be dealt with.” She didn’t have to add that it’d be a suitable punishment. 

With a merry nod of her head, Sarah headed back to the kitchen hatch to place the order, and Donna was left to stare despondently at the entrance. There were only so many things you could do before it was obvious you were waiting for someone who wasn’t turning up. She picked up her handbag, dug out her mobile, scrolled through her phone contacts, read her text messages again, skimmed through Facebook, and considered taking arty photographs of the small flower arrangement on the table. There was no getting around it; she was bored. And the other patrons weren’t helping either. If they managed to look her way without throwing pity her way, they flat out ignored her through an embarrassment barrier. Great! Now she was the restaurant equivalent of Miss Havisham. Just what she needed. Not. 

 

Outside on the pavement, the Doctor was calmly walking back to the TARDIS. There was no rush to do anything these days, since he didn’t have a hungry or disgruntled companion to appease. He didn’t even have a companion. No, he’d given them up. It all seemed rather futile when all that happened was that he either ruined their lives or they were forced to leave him. Same sort of thing, he supposed. Whichever way it went, it meant that he was all on his own again. So he’d decided enough was enough, and he would not take a companion with him anymore, despite that Christina woman trying to invite herself along. Cheek! He could do without her unnecessary reminders, thank you very much. His hearts had almost constricted with grief when she’d called him ‘Spaceman’. Only one person was allowed to do that. Or, should he say, she did. 

Best not to think about her, he told himself; and almost walked straight into an agitated man pacing up and down outside a restaurant. 

“I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t quite looking where I was going. Are you alright?” he asked the pensive man.

The stranger lifted his head and shook it in denial. “Sorry, it was my fault. I’m fine. Just…” He vaguely waved his hand towards the nearby restaurant. “…trying to build up the confidence to walk in. You know how it is. Posh restaurant, gorgeous woman, and then there’s me.” He pointed down at himself in self-deprecation. “I shouldn’t have asked her out.”

“I’m sure it’s you she is interested in, not the quality of the restaurant,” the Doctor kindly assured him as he gazed surreptitiously at the time lines emanating from this man. They were most peculiar, mainly because he recognised the candescence from some of the lines. “Are you erm… have you known her long?” he asked, trying to dampen down his enthusiasm.

“A few months. Donna worked in the same office block as me for a while. I used to take her the morning mail,” the stranger said proudly. “She’s very classy.”

The Doctor nodded in agreement. “Very much so. And you’re meeting her here, today?” he tried to confirm. Already he could feel his heartbeats quickening.

“Right this second,” the man replied, and gulped nervously. “Shaun, she said, if you turn up late you can forget it! I’ve really gone and blown it now.”

“You certainly have!” the Doctor fervently agreed before he could stop himself. “What I mean is…,” he stammered, trying to backpedal. “Things haven’t necessarily gone to pot.”

“Oh, but they have. I’m sure of it,” Shaun sadly stated, and threw a longing glance towards the restaurant. “I can’t go through with it. She won’t want me now, and it’d take two months’ worth wages to make it up to her. It’s no good; I’m going.”

“You’re wrong. Very wrong,” the Doctor insisted. “Donna isn’t like that.”

“How would you know?” Shaun demanded. “You’re just some stranger on the street.”

“Yes, I am,” the Doctor admitted. “But even I can see you’d break her heart if you go now.”

Shaun snorted his scorn as he backed further away. “You obviously don’t know her, mate. She’s hard as nails, that one. I’m sure she only agreed to go out with me as a dare. No, she won’t miss me in the slightest. See ya.”

To the Doctor’s horror, Shaun raced away to goodness knows where, and he was left on the pavement alone. The darkened restaurant window stood judging him as he contemplated what to do next. Should he? The window reflections said ‘yes you should’. With a token reluctant sigh, he pushed forward and opened the entrance door. 

He could instantly see what Shaun had meant about the place being too posh for your average working man. But that wasn’t his main concern as he swept his gaze over the clientele. All he wanted to do was see that Donna was fine, for his own self esteem. 

It didn’t take much to find her. There was a tangible aromatic scent trail that led him straight to her, sitting gazing expectantly in his direction. Around her was a sea of faces all eagerly contemplating him too, as though he had just stepped onto a stage. But he ignored all that when Donna’s expression fell, and a deep sadness swept over her features. No, he couldn’t have that happen. Especially not now.

Walking with confidence, he sauntered towards her, and heard a clear, “Poor woman. That’s obviously not him.” 

‘No, thankfully it isn’t. I’m much better than him’, he thought as he neared her table. She sat with her head slightly bowed, trying not to make eye contact with him as her cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment. This would not do.

Grinning mischievously, he plonked himself down into the chair opposite her and ignored her look of shock. “Hello! Sorry I’m so late, darling, but the traffic was atrocious,” he loudly announced as he picked up the menu and made a play of perusing it. She merely gawped at him in stunned silence. “I’m John. John Smith. Just go with it, for now. Okay?” he quietly assured her across the table. “I saw your date hovering about outside, and the fool told me he’s not coming, so I came in instead. But I’ll go if you don’t want me here.”

Blinking back some tears, she hastily told him, “That’s alright, you can stay. It was nice of you to come in and tell me. Do you know why he legged it?”

“The whole thing was a bit overwhelming,” he supplied. “Fancy restaurant, posh part of town, beautiful woman; it was all too much for him.”

“Beautiful woman,” she repeated in disbelief. “Is that what he told you to say?”

“Nope,” he denied enthusiastically. “That one is all me!”

A delicate blush appeared on her cheeks, and she hurried to conceal it by applying her crisp linen napkin to her face. “Blimey! Who woke up with the Compliment Fairy today then?”

His smug grin stayed firmly in place. “I’m thinking what I’ll be waking up tomorrow with.” When her eyes went wide with surprise, he rethought what he’d just said. “I mean, I’m looking forward to whatever tomorrow brings. I wasn’t implying that…” He waved his finger between the two of them. “I would never presume…,” he continued to stammer.

What an idiot! She couldn’t help laughing at his inept attempt to first flirt and then dig himself out of an innuendo hole. “It’s a good job that I know exactly what you mean, John Smith; especially as you seem to think that I’ve never met you before when I know that I have. Gramps doesn’t bring many people home, and they don’t normally make Mum look like a sour grape, so you made an impression on me.”

“I did?” he questioned, more than pleased with himself. He turned his winning smile onto the waitress as she swept up to ask if he was ready to order. “I’ll have that one,” he answered, pointing to something on the menu. 

“And how would you like your steak cooked, sir?” Sarah enquired.

What steak? “Erm, surprise me,” he answered.

“You can’t tell her that, you prawn!” Donna chastised him. “He’ll have it medium rare,” she ordered for him, and Sarah hurriedly happy away. “Was that alright?” she hissed across the table.

“Very alright,” he agreed, sitting back in his chair with delight. Who would have thought he would get the chance to do this again? 

“Yeah, who would’ve,” she remarked with a laugh.

“Pardon!” The Doctor immediately sat up straight in his chair. “Did you…?”

“Did I what?” she wondered as she adjusted the napkin on her lap that threatened to make a dive for the floor. 

“Never mind,” he murmured. Had she really heard his thoughts or read his mind? He peered at her attentively. _I haven’t got a drink,_ he thought at her. 

Her head immediately snapped up. “Haven’t you?” she queried. “Oh! I’ll ask the girl.” Donna very slightly rose in her seat and caught their waitress’s eye. “Excuse me but my date doesn’t have a drink!”

Sarah rushed over, all apologies. “What can I get you, sir?”

Waving off her contrition as not being a problem for him, the Doctor requested, “Some iced water, please. Sparkling.” 

Fortunately any further apologies couldn’t keep being offered because their meal arrived; and there were smiles all round. It looked delicious and the Doctor soon tucked in, realising how hungry he felt. But with every bite, he cautiously glanced towards Donna. 

Deciding to retest his experiment, he deliberately broadcast the question, _How’s your chicken?_

“It’s lovely, thanks,” she readily answered. “How was the steak?” She’d seen some blokes keen to eat their dinner, but he was in a league of his own. He’d polished off the lot in a matter of seconds!

“Lovely,” he enthused, sitting back with satisfaction. _Almost as good as your cooking_ , he thought before he could stop himself.

She modestly blushed, and stammered, “I could never do this. You didn’t just wake up with the Compliment Fairy this morning; you must have gone and married her!” Donna then picked up her glass of wine, swilled the light golden liquid around and took a sip. “Don’t look so shocked. I know for a fact that you’ve never tasted anything I’ve cooked.”

“Ah, well, that’s where you’re wrong,” he countered. “Wilf has brought me the odd treat that you’ve made.” _… me_ , he silently added. 

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Pardon? Gramps has been handing out my biscuits? Why would he… he must hate my cooking.”

“No, quite the opposite,” the Doctor proclaimed. “He’s very proud of you.” _…and he knows how much I miss you_.

This time her mouth gaped open as she dropped her fork holding the last mouthful of her dinner. “Did you just…? No, I must be imagining it. Or you’re a ventriloquist. Are you one?”

“I’m not one of those, although I have managed to do a bit of trickery in the past,” he admitted. 

“Olfactory,” she murmured, and shook her head in disbelief. “I’m right, aren’t I? That’s not just a made up word.” 

He had to agree with her. “It’s to do with the sense of smell. Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward with concern.

“Not sure,” she confessed, bringing up her hands to her mouth. “Suddenly I feel all weird. As if….” 

Her head was flung backwards and the Doctor defensively brought up his arms to shield his face from a psychic wave. But it didn’t happen. Instead she glowed for a few seconds; light bounced around her frame like a lightning bolt and then went out like a damp squib.

As he lowered his arms in wonder, her gaze returned to lock onto his, and her face grew stern.

“As if a bloody great idiot invaded my head,” she continued saying. “And that makes me MAD!”

“Mad, Donna?” he tried to innocently question her. “W-w-why is that?” _Please forgive me._

“Forgive you,” she hissed in threatening tones. “I’ll give you forgive alright. Just after I have knocked you into next Tuesday. Now pay up and we can get out of here!”

“Pay?!” he spluttered.

“You know, Doctor; money stuff. We discussed this at length once when you made me pay for you, yet again, after the Oodsphere. Cocktail nibbles don’t buy themselves,” she reminded him. “This date you are paying for yourself.”

“Is there anything the matter?” Sarah ran over to ask.

“Erm, no. Can we have the bill, please,” the Doctor politely requested. “We seem to have lost the rest of our appetite.”

“It tends to happen when you find out your husband has been playing silly buggers,” Donna added for good measure in explanation. “Come on, shift your bum,” she aimed towards him as he sat stunned in his chair.

 _Husband?_ he queried, his eyes going wide. And then he dug out his wallet to hand over a debit card to Sarah.

She flashed him her sweetest smile. _Yes, husband, according to this thing in my head; so don’t try to deny it. Oh and… you’re making the tea when we get home,_ she threw at him. 

The broadest grin possible lit up his face as the meal receipt was placed into his hand. “Thank you for everything,” he said to Sarah, whilst guiding Donna towards the restaurant doors.

 _Well? Don’t you have anything to say?_ she pushed into his mind. 

Still grinning triumphantly, he answered, _Yes, dear._

Days don’t get better than this, he decided!

 _Get over yourself,_ she huffed, without as much venom as he had anticipated, he was pleased to note.

Feeling brave as they entered the outside world, he asked, _Any chance of us having a not-a-date kind of not-a-date but is-a-date?_

Inevitably she swatted his arm. Hard


End file.
